


After me comes the flood

by haganenobeato



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Cute Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Riza has PTSD from daddy dearest, Royai - Freeform, Young!Royai, my absolute weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haganenobeato/pseuds/haganenobeato
Summary: "Pictures pop into her sight. Needles. The ink. The dark room. Her father’s study. Her mother’s apron. It burns. Searing, sweltering hot pain. Her arms are too short to reach."A storm brews over an Eastern countryside fair.





	After me comes the flood

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot prompt response, cross-posted from tumblr under capthawkeye. 
> 
> As a warning, there is evident PTSD here in the event that isn't your cup of tea. 
> 
> Enjoy!

A flash of lightning splits across the gray sky. It brightens her vision and she counts the number of seconds before the rumble of thunder reaches her. A gust from the rolling clouds fluffs her short hair and she lifts a hand to block her bangs from covering her face. “The storm isn’t far off now,” she says, turning to her companion. “According to your little trick.”

The city boy stuffs the centerpiece of their funnel cake into his mouth, nodding as he chewed. He swallows with exaggeration, as if he lacked manners. “How far away was that one?”

“Ten seconds,” she hums, calculating. “Two miles away.” Riza gestures towards the Hermanson’s barn; its interior is lit and with faint noises of people at work.  “The planners must’ve known it was going to rain too. They usually have the dancing at the end of the fair outside.”

“Is that right?” He glances over, shaking off the powdered sugar from his hands before stuffing them in his pockets. “How would you know,” He meets her eyes with a glint of mischief in his. “Bring any other boyfriends before?”

Her jaw slacks and a blush heats her cheeks before she can control it. He’s teasing her again and she always falls right for right for it. Every time. She lays it out like funnel cake and he eats it up at her expense. “You are not my boyfriend.”

“Yet..”

Her cheeks burns even more and she nudges his shoulder for lack of a witty comeback as the crowd moves around them towards shelter. She glares at him, “Come on, let’s go inside before it starts pouring.”

It is considerably warmer inside, and the petrichor mingles with the scents of tack, hay, and old wood. A bittersweet nostalgia settles from a time when farm animals were still kept in their barn, and her mother still graced her home.  A band in the corner plays a cacophonous warm up and people begin to situate themselves into seats or within their own crowds. She waves warmly to Mrs. Tilde who runs the bakery and the butcher Mr. Vibert asks for her father, offering a discount as thanks for his help before walking away. She realizes Roy is hanging out a few feet behind her and she motions him to come forward.

“Care to introduce me to the nice people of your town?” He says coolly, but the sway in his stance tells her something else.

Riza hops onto a haystack to sit. Her eyes narrow with a smirk tugging at her lips before she gasps in feigned surprise, “What’s this? Mr. Mustang is shy?”

Roy huffs, “Me? Never.”

“You’ve been here for almost a year. You’ve met most of them already.” She tuts, tapping her finger at her bottom lip. A gathering crowd of curious youths forms before them at a distance, but their sights on the newcomer is clear. “Ah, but it seems luck is on your side today. You won’t have to move a muscle.”

Roy quirks an eyebrow and it flattens with understanding soon after.

She leans into an upturned palm, having witnessed this before.

Tommy Chapman, a tall but stocky boy with a mess of red hair, steps up first. He speaks with a thick, East countryside accent - a rare treat, “Hi there.”

She watches Roy fidget briefly when he notes her absence by his side and awkwardly waves a single swoop of his hand before placing it back in his pocket. “Hello.”

“My names’ Tommy and this here is Bobby, Polly, Duke, Amber, Josh, Billy, Katie, Hunter, Will, and Billy, but he’s small so we call him Shortcake.”

“How do you do?”

Riza clasps a hand over her mouth out of courtesy.

“We know yous livin’ in with the Hawkeye family. We ain’t seen you around an’ we were wonderin’ where you were from.”

His face of confusion shakes her with laughter. But as her father’s apprentice, he picks up a bit quicker than she anticipated.

“Oh, from Central.” He says with his city boy smile. She can spot the twinkle in the girls’ eyes.

“From Central?!” Murmurs and gasps erupt from the small group.

Tommy tells them to hush. “Do ya’ll have lots of cars there?”

“Oh! Are there traffic hams?” Another chimes in. “You know, when there’n so many cars, you’re stopped on the road.”

“That’s traffic jams, you bumpkin.”

“Hey!”

Roy is no stranger to attention, she notes, when he answers each questions born out of fascination. She can’t help the giggle that escapes her as they surround him. He looks at her with pleading eyes to rescue him, but she shrugs in a “what can I do?” sort of way.

“Is it true that there are all sorts of military people there?”

“Are there people with lots of tattoos? I hear that’s becoming a thing now.”

Something within her unexpectedly plummets.

“Tattoos? What are those?”

‘No, don’t.’ Her eyes widen involuntarily and she slides off the hay, the prickling ends scraping at her flesh. Her feet turn into blocks of bricks.

“You know, someone takes some kind of sharp object filled with ink-”

_‘Please stop.’_

“Like a needle and inks your skin permanently. I saw it in a nickelodeon when I went to visit my Aunt Patsy in the No-”

_‘Why me?’_

All the noise - the band, Polly, and everything around her - garbles in her mind. Everything is muffled, like someone has stuffed her ears with cotton balls. A flash of cold sweat overcomes her suddenly, then the feel of her skin becomes a numbing sensation and her mind is swimming..

Pictures pop into her sight. Needles. The ink. The dark room. Her father’s study. Her mother’s apron. It burns. Searing, sweltering hot pain. Her arms are too short to reach. She feels it singe beneath her clothes. The funnel cake hangs at the back of her throat , mixed with bile and whatever else had once settled in her stomach. It is all threatening to release from the onslaught of nausea.

She needs to get outside. To breathe, to escape the barn walls from closing in.

When she begins to walk, her strength begins to wane. It seems so easy to just sit behind the hay but something urges her into the downpour.The flash of lightning jolts her, providing her with some clarity to move forward as normally as she can manage. She shakes her head, hands to her temples and closing her eyes to obstruct the images from late nights and silent tears. Riza grabs onto the one of the weight bearing studs for some stability before she wills herself to continue.

She stumbles towards the exit outside of the barn door, grabbing the attention of a few onlookers but no one thinks to pay any mind.

Off to the distance, she hears her name called.

_‘Riza, be still.’_

She gasps for breath as she reaches the threshold leading her outside.

_‘And stop crying.’_

The drops from the summer cloudburst pelts at her skin. It seeps into her linen dress and her hair clings to her face in a matter of moments. A hand goes to her chest. She briefly remembers reading about large snakes coiling around its prey. Currently, she feels like prey while an unseen force constricts her breathing. The thunder that roars overhead silences the cold voice of her father from her head. Riza manages to gain some distance from the barn, stepping into wet patches of grass, before her legs tremble and the world goes sideways.

Wrong, she was falling.

+++

The soft patter of the rain stirs her. She groans and notices a warmth underneath her, a comparison to the chill of her wet skin. Riza shivers from a soft breeze and she’s pulled closer to the source of warmth.

Riza’s eyes flutter and she sees the vibrant green shelter of leaves from a grand oak tree, the tiniest rays of sunshine poking through..

Someone gingerly adjusts her bangs away from her eyes, “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

She tries adjust to the light and the sounds around her. The rain splatters on the mud puddles nearby. Her head heavy as a tractor, she moves it slowly to see Roy looking down at her with his tendrils of black hair hanging toward her face, just as drenched as she. “What happened?” She croaks.

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

She grins at his absurd remark until the memory floods back to her. “Roy, I-” she clutches his arm, her eye blinking with the sporadic drops of rain landing on her eyelashes. His face falls into concern as he reads hers. She releases the tension in her chest and in her face as a sad realization dawns on her. If she were to tell him, absolutely everything, she knows he’d get uppity and risk his apprenticeship. Her eyes quiver at the thought of him going away, losing this opportunity, after achieving so much more than the others. She lets her arm fall. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he reassures her. “But I did tell you to stay away from that kabob.”

She releases the breath she held and laughs, nodding in agreement., “You were right, it was bad meat.”

“When am I wrong?” Before she can reply, he grunts and lifts her up, one arm hooking her back and the other under her knees.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Riza exclaims, looking around to all corners of the field but him. Her face heats up.

“Taking us home,” he tells her matter-of-factly, taking strides in the direction of the manor. “We’re soaked.”

“Yes, but-” Her fight to prove herself capable is short-lived. Her legs remain mostly unresponsive, shaking with any strength she tries to exert into them. Her arms are subdued by his grasp. Even as she tries to push away, he nimbly readjusts her back in his strong arms and she’s back to square one. She sinks into him, feeling the wet fabric of his shirt on the side of her face, “How embarrassing.”

“You’ll get over it.”

She looks up from her pout and he looks forward. Undisturbed by the rain, he wears a smile that puts her stomach through acrobatics. Her heart decides to join in, landing with heavy pounding and throbbing in her ear when she realizes her predicament. But she hears the thrum of his, through the moist fabric and warm skin - calm and steady.  He almost seems…relieved or happy and she’s silently thankful for him.

She closes her eyes after another string of lightning illuminates the clouds and she counts the seconds before it rumbles in her chest.


End file.
